


Rip my Roof Away

by blueabsinthe



Category: Law & Order
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it feels like being pulled in two directions. She's not sure whether to end it, or stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rip my Roof Away

Tonight is the night, she thinks.

The night where she finally puts her foot down and tells him they have to figure out what exactly it is they’re doing. She cannot keep doing this to herself. Allowing herself to believe that all they are doing is sleeping together. She doesn’t know what is worse – the constant convincing she does, or the knowing she’s lying to herself. 

She tells herself she was comforting him after his near death experience in the men’s room. She never expected it to progress further. As she hears him shutting the door, she knows how the rest goes. It’s after hours in the office … so no disturbances; they made sure of that. 

She leans casually against his desk watching as the lock clicks, before he crosses the floor to her, his tie loosened, and his shirt sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows. Wordlessly, he reaches a hand out to her. She takes it, and willingly lets him draw her into his arms. 

He brushes a soft kiss against her lips, lingering … waiting until she parts her lips slightly. 

She means to tell him then, or so she convinces herself. No more excuses. No more dancing around the issue. No more dipping one foot in at a time. Try as she might, the only sound she can emit is a low, strangled cry which he mistakes for her acquiescence. 

Her full name falls from his lips like a drowning man catching his last breath. It’s the closest to an endearment she will get tonight. 

For every meeting they have, there are no soft-spoken words of endearment murmured in her ear, no small talk; just their hands unzipping zippers, and unbuttoning buttons, until she feels his fingers on her naked flesh. 

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he whispers against her ear, as his hands slip her panties down her legs. She thinks it’s his way of a joke, considering he mumbles it almost every time they end up like this, but, there was something in the inflection of his voice that chills her to the bone. 

It’s nothing. There was no hidden meaning in his comment. But, she’s not so sure. And, it’s not the first time she has wondered how they can go on like this. After all, it’s not fair to either of them, not right. The last thing she wants to do is make things awkward in the office. 

She opens her mouth to say something, but he presses his index finger against her lips, as he pushes her slightly, so she is sitting on his desk. She can look around his office and know where and when they have done it. 

Against the door, the wall nearest the door, his chair, the bookshelf … but never the desk. She wonders why that is, and nearly voices the thought, but finds words escaping her as he shifts his position. 

No words now. There’s just heat, him gripping her hips, her curling her legs around his waist, and the constant grappling to reach that inexorable goal, until …  
He shudders, she cries out, and then it’s over.

The afterglow was never a moment she got to enjoy. There was never any need. But, as he slips from her, she notices him looking at her in a way she finds slightly disconcerting. 

“I think …” he begins, his eyes are like twin icicles as they take in the thin sheen of perspiration coating her forehead, and the delicate swell of her breasts. “That is to say … shouldn’t we talk about what I said earlier?”

She finishes doing up her blouse, and reaches for her discarded undergarments, pulling them on. Isn’t this the exact opposite direction quickies go in? What happened to the freedom to come and go as you please (no pun intended)? “The comment about how we can’t keep meeting like this?”

He nods. “I meant what I said.”

“Are you ending this?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is it what you want?” 

It’s a long time before she finally gathers enough courage to raise her eyes to his. Her eyes lock on his. Now or never. “We lie best when we lie to ourselves,” she mumbles just loud enough for him to hear. 

He drags his fingers through her hair, and cups the sides of her face, pulling her lips to his in a kiss that leaves her breathless.

“I’ll take that as your answer?” she whispers, as his lips leave hers to trail down her throat. 

“You can,” he replies. “ _Mi alma_ ,” he breathes against the hollow in her throat. 

“Since when did you learn Spanish?” she asks, slightly breathless at his endearment. 

He chuckles. “Just that.”

“For this particular occasion?”

He shrugs. “For the time when I did finally manage to get you to talk about us.”

“And if that time never came?”

“Who says it wouldn’t have?”

“Pretty confident tonight aren’t we, Mike Cutter?”

Mike presses a chaste kiss against her lips. “I’d say I have a pretty good reason, wouldn’t you, _Consuela_?”

She curls her arms around his neck. “You would indeed.”


End file.
